We shall have that flyin' up in our faces, and
our children's after us."
That was a long visit to the Hall Farm, and drew too strongly on Adam's
energies for him to think of seeing others, or re-entering on his old
occupations till the morrow. "But to-morrow," he said to himself, "I'll
go to work again. I shall learn to like it again some time, maybe; and
it's right whether I like it or not."
This evening was the last he would allow to be absorbed by sorrow:
suspense was gone now, and he must bear the unalterable. He was resolved
not to see Arthur Donnithorne again, if it were possible to avoid him.
He had no message to deliver from Hetty now, for Hetty had seen Arthur.
And Adam distrusted himself--he had learned to dread the violence of his
own feeling. That word of Mr. Irwine's--that he must remember what he
had felt after giving the last blow to Arthur in the Grove--had remained
with him.
These thoughts about Arthur, like all thoughts that are charged with
strong feeling, were continually recurring, and they always called up
the image of the Grove--of that spot under the overarching boughs where
he had caught sight of the two bending figures, and had been possessed
by sudden rage.
"I'll go and see it again to-night for the last time," he said; "it'll
do me good; it'll make me feel over again what I felt when I'd knocked
him down.
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